UC-NRLF 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Estate  of 
Ernst  and  Eleanor 
van  Loben  Sels 


A    TRILOGY 
AFTER  THE  MAMMFR  op  THE  GREEK 


L  LUST  RAT  IONS. 


THE 

THE  UTTLE TIN  GODS 
ON  WHEELS 

THE  CHAPERONS 


To  WHICH   ISADDED 

OXYGEN 


MOUNT  DESERT 
PASTORAL.. 


CHARLES  w.  SEVER  PUBLISHER. 


*  MASS, 


THE 


LITTLE  TIN  GODS-ON-WHEELS: 

OR, 

•Soctetg  in  our  jHatorn 


A  TRILOGY  AFTER  THE  MANNER  OF  THE  GREEK. 

BY    ROBERT    GRANT. 
0ft 

ILLUSTRATED     BY    F.    G.    ATTWOOD. 
PROM  THE  "HARVARD  LAMPOON" 

SEVENTH   EDITION. 


CAMBRIDGE: 
CHARLES    W.     SEVER, 

UNIVERSITY  BOOKSTORE. 
l88o. 


4  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-  Wheels. 

We  should  not  wish  to  be  worldly  and  beautiful, 
Foolish  and  frivolous.     No,  not  for  anything. 

Enter  MR.  CARNATION  "with  his  opera  hat,  embossed  with  a  gorgeous 
monogram,  under  his  arm.  He  scans  the  various  groups  "with  a 
troubled  air,  and  then  soliloquizes  as  follows :  — 

CARNATION. 

O,  what  a  selfish  place  is  this  gay  world  ! 

Alas  !  it  wounds  me  to  the  quick  to  see 

That  ghastly  row  of  unattended  maids 

Glued,  meek  as  heifers,  to  the  garnished  wall. 

Shy,  shrinking  flowers,  who  but  need  the  sun 

Of  some  man's  smile  to  bloom  in  peerless  beauty; 

And  others  plain  as  pikestaffs,  but  with  minds 

Cultured  and  stored  with  lore  of  Greece  and  Rome, 

(Ah,  what  is  beauty  but  a  trap  and  snare, 

Unless  there  is  a  mind  to  back  it  up  !) 

Around  the  door  a  throng  of  callous  brutes, 

Who  claim  the  name  of  men,  stand  unconcerned    * 

And  see  these  frail  exotics  droop  and  wilt 

Without  a  pang,  and  then  go  idly  home. 

Not  such  am  I.     This  noble  spirit  stirs 

Me  up  to  action.     I  will  show  these  curs 

That  Chivalry  lives  still  and  cannot  die. 

What  ho  !  there  !     Crocus,  will  you  kindly  give  me 

An  introduction  to  that  girl  in  pink  ? 

CROCUS. 

Great  Caesar's  ghost !     My  dear  boy,  do  you  know 
That  that  rare  maid  in  pink  is  she  whom  men 


The   Wallflowers.  5 

Who  know  her  style  in  playful  irony 

"  Old  Prob,"  because  she  ne'er  was  known  to  talk 

Of  anything  but  weather,  winds,  and  rain  ? 

You  will  be  stuck  as  sure  as  you  are  born. 

Believe  me,  I  should  much  prefer  to  be 

"  A  pagan  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn," 

Than  talk  to  her. 

CARNATION. 

Stop,  ruthless  man!  thank  Heaven 
My  heart  is  not  yet  hardened  by  the  world. 
Poor  lamb  !  I  '11  talk  to  thee  for  all  thy  weather. 

CROCUS. 

Carnation,  in  the  name  of  goodness,  pause  ! 
Let  not  your  tender  nature  rule  your  reason; 
I  vow  she 's  nothing  but  a  mere  barometer. 

CARNATION. 

I  swear  I  '11  speak  to  her.     Unhand  me,  Crocus ; 

By  Heaven !  I  '11  make  mince-meat  of  him  that  stops  me. 

He  drags  CROCUS  tip  to  Miss  TIGERLILY.  CROCUS  introduces  him 
and  immediately  leaves.  CARNATION  begins  to  talk  to  her  in  the 
most  charming  and  animated  way  in  the  background.  She  replies 
languidly. 

CHORUS   OF    FASHIONABLE   YOUNG   MEN. 

Nothing  refineth  the  young  like  experience. 
He  the  impetuous,  green  and  undisciplined, 
Won't  be  so  eager  to  talk  with,  that  serious- 


6  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on- Wheels. 

Minded  young  damosel  after  he  's  been  with  her 
All  of  an  evening,  stuck  on  her  terribly. 
We  the  long-suffering,  taught  by  experience, 
Foxy  as  Lucifer,  ne'er  will  be  caught  again, 
Not  if  we  know  ourselves,  you  bet  your  hat  on  it ! 
That  is  the  species  of  hair-pins  that  we  are  ! 

During  the  chorus  CARNATION  and  Miss  TIGERLILY  have  approached 
the  front  of  the  stage.  His  face,  having  gradually  grown  graver 
and  graver,  has  now  assiimed  an  expression  of  mingled  despair 
and  horror. 

CARNATION  (having  made  several  attempts  at  conversation, 

tries  again). 

You  say  you  do  not  care  for  parties  much, 
You  probably  have  many  outside  interests  ? 

MISS  TIGERLILY. 

Yes.     Was  it  raining  when  you  left  the  street  ? 

CARNATION. 

I  think  it  was,  but,  faith,  I  did  not  notice. 

MISS  TIGERLILY. 

What  dreadful  weather  we  Ve  been  having  lately  ! 

CARNATION. 

Does  not  the  winter  meet  your  approbation  ? 

MISS  TIGERLILY. 

I  really  hardly  know.     Sometimes  I  think 
That  snow  is  nicest,  sometimes  I  like  rain; 


The   Wallflowers.  j 

Often  a  thaw  delights  me,  and  a  freeze 
Perhaps  is  better;  pleasant,  too,  is  hail. 

Pauses  as  if  frightened  at  having  made  such  a  long  speech. 

CARNATION  (to  change  the  subject}. 
Shall  we  not  try  the  entry  for  a  change  ? 

MISS  TIGERLILY. 

No,  thank  you  ;  I  '11  stay  here.     I  don't  like  draughts  ; 
I  think  the  wind  is  high  to-night.     I  hope 
It  will  go  down  before  the  peep  of  dawn. 

CARNATION. 

I  hope  so,  truly.     Will  you  have  some  supper? 

MISS  TIGERLILY  (brightening  up}. 
Yes,  thank  you  ;  I  will  take  a  glass  of  water, 
Some  beef,  or  if  there  is  none,  some  croquets, 
A  napkin,  and  a  plate  of  frozen  pudding. 

CARNATION  helps  her  to  all  these.  She  says  nothing  except  that  the 
croquets  are  too  hot  and  the  ice  too  cold.  Having  removed  the  last 
plate,  CARNATION  does  not  return,  but  moves  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  apparently  a  blighted  being. 

CARNATION. 

All,  all  is  gone  !     The  milk  of  human  kindness 
Within  me  is  dried  up.     Now  am  I  tit 
For  murder,  treason,  stratagem,  and  spoils; 
Now  could  I  strangle  babes,  and  smile  to  see 
A  cannibal  tear  beings  limb  from  limb 
And  roast  their  joints  before  a  red-hot  fire. 


8  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-  Wheels. 

I  have  supped  full  with  horrors,  and  shall  ne'er 
Behold  it  rain  or  snow  without  a  shudder. 
O  Crocus,  Crocus,  I  have  wronged  you  deeply ! 
Straight  will  I  hie  me  to  the  foxy  caravan 
Of  youths  about  the  door,  and  pardon  beg 
From  those  whom  lately  I  did  so  revile. 
O,  how  much  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth 
It  is  to  talk  to  barometric  girls  ! 

CARNATION  walks  across  the  room,  and  shakes  CROCUS'S  hand  warmly. 
CROCUS  places  a  wreath  of  laicrel  upon  his  head,  and  leads  him  to  the 
head  of  the  chorus.  Both  choruses  march  about  the  stage  with  defiant 
gestures. 

CHORUS    OF    WALLFLOWERS. 

See  how  the  ingrate  leaves  the  aesthetic  one, 

Her  the  unfortunate,  good  but  not  beautiful. 

He  the  illiterate  could  not  appreciate 

Her  the  intelligent.     Men  are  but  simpering 

Idiots  anyway.     Little  she  cares  for  him. 

She  would  not  wish  to  be  worldly  and  beautiful, 

Foolish  and  volatile  ;  no,  not  for  anything. 

CHORUS    OF    FASHIONABLE   YOUNG    MEN. 

See  how  the  prodigal  comes  to  the  fold  again, 
Taught  by  experience  hard,  but  salubrious. 
Sweet  is  adversity.     He  is  now  disciplined, 
Crowned  with  the  laurel,  and  foxy  as  Lucifer ; 
He  won't  be  snared  again,  not  by  a  jug  full ! 
That  is  the  kind  of  a  hair-pin  that  he  is  ! 

Tht  guests  show  signs  of  going  home.  Miss  TiGERLiLY  and  her  mother^ 
with  an  injured  air>  leave  the  ballroom.  CARNATION  and  CROCUS 
go  off  arm  in  arm.  The  curtain  descends  while  the  choruses  are 
repeating  thetr  last  strophes. 


The  Little  Tin-Go ds-on-  Wheels. 


THE  LITTLE  TIN   GODS-ON-WHEELS. 

A  Sequel  to  "  The  Wallflowers." 
A  TRAGEDY   AFTER  THE  MANNER  OF  THE  GREEK. 

DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 

Miss  JACQUEMINOT,  a  raving  beauty. 

Miss  BONSELLINE,  a  tearing  bud. 

MR.    SOUVENIR,  a  howling  swell,   one  of  the  little   Tin   Gods-on- 

Wheels. 

Miss  SMILAX,  a  parasite. 
Choruses  of  Tin    Gods-on-  Wheels,  parasitical  young  ladies,   tearing 

buds,  raving  beauties,  etc, 

The  scene  is  laid  in  Boston,  the  Modern  Athens.  The  curtain  rises 
on  a  magnificent  ballroom.  Young  ladies  and  men  of  all  sorts  are 
grouped  about  the  room.  The  clock  strikes  half  past  ten.  The  door 
opens,  and  MR.  SOUVENIR  and  a  number  of  other  little  Tin  Gods 
on-Wheels  just  from  a  dinner-party  enter,  with  boutonnieres  in  their 
buttonholes  and  pride  in  their  hearts. 

CHORUS    OF    LITTLE   TIN    GODS-ON-WHEELS. 

Look  at  those  dear  little,  sweet  little,  nice  little 

Girls  in  the  corner,  who  are  all  dying  to 

Have  us  come  up  to  them.     Which  of  the  darlings 

Shall  we  make  happy  to-night  with  our  presence  ? 

We  the  magnificent  leaders  of  fashion, 

Fresh  from  a  dinner  and  tony  as  possible ; 

We  the  young  men  who  don't  rise  in  the  morning, 

Wedded  to  style,  and  without  occupation. 


io  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-  Wheels. 

CHORUS   OF   PARASITICAL   YOUNG   LADIES. 

Happy  the  maid  whom  fate  ordains 

To  spend  the  evening  with  a  swell  ; 
What  matter  that  he  has  no  brains, 

Provided  that  it  looketh  well ! 
For  what  is  sense  compared  to  dog, 

Or  intellect  to  tone  and  style  ? 
Though  he  be  heavy  as  a  log, 

If  he  's  the  fashion  we  will  smile. 

SOUVENIR,  after  gazing  around  for  some  moments  as  if  he  nvned  the 
room,  approaches  Miss  SMILAX,  and  offers  to  shake  hands  with 
her  in  the  most  patronizing  way. 

MISS   SMILAX. 

O  Mr.  Souvenir  !  how  nice  it  is 

To  see  you  here.     I  had  begun  to  think 

You  were  not  coming.     Were  you  at  the  dinner  ? 

SOUVENIR  {gradually  edging  off}. 
Yes.    Charmed,  I  'm  sure.    Excuse  me  ;  see  you  later. 

By  the  most  skilftd  manceitvre  he  slips  away  before  MR.  CARNATION, 
the  less  experienced  youth  who  was  talking  to  Miss  SMILAX  when 
he  came  up,  can  anticipate  him.  Miss  SMILAX  beams  all  over  for 
ten  minutes  after.  SOUVENIR  next  approaches  Miss  BONSELLINE. 

CHORUS    OF   TEARING    BUDS. 

Look  at  that  mass  of  conceited  presumption 
Going  the  rounds  in  his  usual  manner. 
Is  n't  he  horrid  ?     But,  sisters,  speak  softly, 
It  would  not  do  for  the  world  to  offend  him. 
He  is  a  man  who  can  make  us  or  mar  us  ; 


The  Little  Tin  Gods- on- Wheels.  1 1 

Make  us  the  "  thing,"  or  condemn  us  forever. 
So  we  must  smile  and  seem  awfully  flattered, 
For  it  is  swell  to  be  seen  with  the  creature. 
Rough  him  as  much  as  you  like,  for  he  never 
By  the  least  possible  chance  would  perceive  it ; 
For  he  considers  he  does  us  a  favor 
If  he  but  tread  on  the  train  of  our  dresses. 

SOUVENIR  offers  his  hand  to  Miss  BONSELLINE  very  much  as  if  he 
were  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States,  and  she  a  child  of  eight.  She 
appears  grateful,  however. 

SOUVENIR. 

I  hope,  Miss  Bonselline,  you  are  enjoying 

Yourself  this  evening.     Does  the  gay  world  treat  you 

Kindly,  and  send  you  lots  of  pleasant  partners  ? 

MISS    BONSELLINE. 

O  Mr.  Souvenir !  to  have  you  speak  to  me 
Is  bliss  enough,  you  know. 

SOUVENIR. 

O,  thank  you,  thank  you  ! 
Don't  mention  it.     Excuse  me  ;  see  you  later. 

He  takes  advantage  of  MR.  CROCUS,  who  has  come  tip  to  Miss  BONSFJ.- 
LINE  with  a  plate  of  ice-cream,  to  glide  away,  although  it  requires  the 
quickness  of  a  cat,  for  CROCUS  has  powers  that  may  not  be  sneezed 
at,  joined  to  thefoxiness  of  a  Nestor.  SOUVENIR  next  goes  up  to  MlSS 
JACQUEMINOT,  an  experienced  raving  beauty. 

CHORUS   OF   RAVING   BEAUTIES. 

See  how  the  parasites  giggle  and  flatter, 

See  how  the  de'butantes  smile  and  look  happy, 


12  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-  Wheels. 

If  he  but  speak  to  them,  he  the  time-serving, 
Saucy,  conceited,  and  arrogant  monster. 
Older  are  we  than  those  volatile  damosels ; 
We  have  position,  and  beaux  without  number. 
But  yet  (alas  for  the  weakness  of  woman  !) 
We  still  must  worship  for  politic  reasons. 
He  has  no  brains,  to  be  sure,  but  his  money 
Gives  him  the  means  to  indulge  in  exotics. 
Is  there  a  girl  who  is  proof  against  roses  ? 
He  is  a  bore  of  the  very  first  water, 
But  he  gives  dinners  to  those  whom  he  fancies ; 
And  a  club  dinner  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at : 
Is  n't  it  horrid  ?     But  how  can  we  help  it  ? 

SOUVENIR  shakes  hands  with  Miss  JACQUEMINOT  as  if  he  thought  that 
he  was  doing  a  charitable  act.     She  also  appears  to  feel  honored, 

SOUVENIR. 

Really,  Miss  Jacqueminot,  I  've  not  been  able 
To  speak  to  you  before ;  you  're  so  surrounded. 

MISS   JACQUEMINOT. 

To  have  you  speak  to  me  at  any  time 
Suffices  me  ;  for  beggars  can't  be  choosers. 

SOUVENIR. 

Ah  !  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so,  really;  — 
There  are  so  many  girls  it 's  quite  impossible 
To  speak  to  all.     And  what  with  dining  out 
So  much  as  I  do,  one  gets  very  weary 
Of  parties. 


The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-Wheels.  13 

MISS   JACQUEMINOT. 

Yes  ;  of  course  a  man  like  you 
Must  find  society  grow  stale  at  times ; 
Most  men  of  intellect  do  find  it  slow. 

SOUVENIR. 

Yes  ;  I  must  own  we  do.     But  I  confess 
That  I  am  fond  of  girls  ;  I  really  am. 

MISS  JACQUEMINOT. 

O,  thank  you,  thank  you !     We  are  very  grateful. 
At  this  moment  MR.  CARNATION  comes  up  with  a  plate  of  salad. 

SOUVENIR. 

Ah  !  thank  you.     Pray  excuse  me  ;  see  you  later. 

SOUVENIR  moves  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  with  a  satisfied  air.  ffe 
fills  a  glass  with  champagne  and  soliloquizes.  CARNATION  comes  up 
and  listens  to  him  with  mouth-open  admiration. 

Poor  little  dears,  how  much  they  owe  us  men  ! 

That  girl  was  almost  frantic  with  delight ; 

And  those  young  things  with  whom  I  talked  at  first 

Looked  proud  as  peacocks  when  they  had  me  round. 

It  wearies  one,  I  know ;  but  yet  it  were 

A  selfish  thing  to  disappoint  the  dears 

By  staying  e'en  a  single  night  at  home. 

I  must  be  a  most  fascinating  man : 

'T  is  not  my  fault ;  the  ladies  must  blame  Heaven. 

[Exit. 

Miss  JACQUEMINOT  and  Miss  BONSELLINE,  who  have  been  talking  to 
gether,  approach  the  front  of  the  stage. 


14  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-VVheeh. 

MISS    BONSELLINE. 

He  did  ?     The  horrid,  mean,  conceited  thing  ! 
I  never  want  to  speak  to  him  again. 

MISS   JACQUEMINOT. 

Patience,  my  dear !     To-night  we  have  to  smile, 

But  on  the  morrow  at  the  sewing-circle 

We  '11  put  a  head  on  this  small  God-on-Wheels  ; 

We  '11  pick  him  into  little  bits  of  pieces, 

And  tear  his  wretched  character  to  rags. 

My  blood  is  up  at  last,  and  I  am  fit 

For  gossip,  slander,  libel,  and  revenge. 

After  this  evening's  torture  I  could  lie, 

Forge,  rehypothecate,  or  play  the  trick 

The  adder  palmed  off  on  the  countryman 

Without  a  pang.     O,  let  us,  dearest  friend, 

From  this  day  forth  take  pains  to  make  it  plain 

To  man,  that  woman's  never-dying  dread 

Is  talking  to  a  little  God-on-Wheels. 

They  clasp  each  other's  hands,  and  move  to  the  head  ef  the  unitel 
choruses  of  tearing  buds  and  raving  beauties.  Miss  SMI  LAX  marches 
at  the  head  of  the  chorus  of  parasitical  girls.  The  various  choruse. 
begin  to  move  with  warlike  gestures. 

CHORUS   OF   PARASITICAL   GIRLS. 

Happy  the  maid  whom  fate  ordains 
To  pass  the  evening  with  a  swell ! 

What  matter  that  he  has  no  brains. 
Provided  that  it  looketh  well ! 

For  what  is  sense  compared  to  dog, 
Or  intellect  to  tone  and  style  ? 


The  Little  Tin  Gods-on- Wheels.  I 

Though  he  be  heavy  as  a  log, 
If  he 's  the  fashion,  we  all  smile. 

CHORUS   OF  LITTLE   TIN   GODS-ON-WHEELS. 

Dear  little,  sweet  little,  nice  little  damosels, 
We  the  magnificent  cream  of  society 
Bid  you  good-night,  and  we  trust  you  feel  gratitude 
For  the  sweet  smiles  we  have  scattered  among  you. 
We  have  been  bored,  but  we  gladly  put  up  with  it : 
Nothing  is  sweeter  than  disinterestedness. 

CHORUS  OF  TEARING  BUDS  AND  RAVING  BEAUTIES. 

See  those  detestable,  time-serving  hypocrites, 
Probably  boasting  that  we  are  in  love  with  them. 
Pitiful  creatures,  they  think  that  they  flatter  us 
By  their  grimaces  that  look  like  orang-outang's. 
When  we  assemble  to  sew  for  the  indigent, 
Trust  us  to  tinker  the  little  tin  monsters. 

The  curtain  descends  while  the  choruses  are  still  singing. 


16  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-  Wheels. 


THE    CHAPERONS. 

A  Supplement  to  "  The  Wallflowers  "  and  "  The  Little  Tin  Gods- on* 
Wheels," 

A  TRAGEDY  AFTER  THE   MANNER  OF  THE  GREEK. 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

MR.  JACQUEMINOT,  the  father  of  a  raving  beauty. 

MRS.  BONSELLINE,  the  mother  of  a  tearing  bud. 

MRS.  TIGERLILY,  the  mother  of  a  wallflower. 

MRS.  SOUVENIR,  the  mother  of  a  little  Tin  God-on- Wheels. 

MR.  CROCUS,  a  worldling  of  some  years1  standing.        "j      ,, 

MR.  SOUVENIR  (fits),  a  howling  swell  and  Tin  God.  I 

MR.  CARNATION,   a  kind-hearted  but  inexperienced  j 

young  man.  German. 

Choruses  of  mothers,  fathers,  etc.  Various  other  characters. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  Boston,  the  Modern  Athens.  The  curtain  rises  on 
a  public  ballroom.  A  German  is  about  to  begin.  On  seats,  around 
the  hall,  are  ranged  a  host  of  Chaperons,  mostly  mothers  and  aunts. 
There  are  a  few  fathers  scattered  among  them.  At  the  door  of  the 
dressing-room  appear  MR.  JACQUEMINOT  and  daughter,  MESDAMES 
BONSELLINE,  TIGERLILY,  SOUVENIR,  with  a  bevy  of  their  own 
daughters,  and  daughters  of  other  people  intrusted  to  them.  The 
ushers  rush  forward.  SOUVENIR  secures  Miss  JACQUEMINOT.  MR. 
JACQUEMINOT  (pere]  escorts  MRS.  BONSELLINE  to  a  seat.  CROCUS 
leads  off"  Miss  BONSELLINE.  CARNATION  is  left  to  take  charge  of 
MRS.  TIGERLILY,  her  daughter,  and  two  Miss  DAFFODiLS,yhw*  the 
country,  who  are  staying  with  MRS.  TIGERLILY. 

CHORUS  OF  CHAPERONS  (mothers). 
We,  the  mammas  of  those  lovely  young  damosels, 
Once  ourselves  raving  and  tearing  and  beautiful, 


tfH 


The  Chaperons.  17 

We  the  long-suffering,  pitiful  chaperons, 

Curious,  critical,  slightly  censorious, 

Sit  here  in  slumberous,  somnolent  solitude, 

Making  remarks,  duly  tempered  with  charity, 

On  the  young  persons  composing  society. 

See  that  unfortunate  Eleanor  Daffodil, 

Fresh  from  the  country,  and  green  as  asparagus. 

Look  at  the  cut  and  the  set  of  the  dress  on  her, 

Does  n't  she  have  the  effect  of  a  rag-bag  ? 

Taste  never  ran  in  the  Daffodil  family. 

MRS.  SOUVENIR  (conversing  with  MR.  JACQUEMINOT). 
O  Mr.  Jacqueminot,  your  lovely  daughter 
Looks  like  a  queen  to-night ;  that  perfect  dress, 
Which  came  from  Worth,  —  I  know  it  by  the  cut,  — 
Is  truly  exquisite.     My  Alice  Blanche 
Comes  out  next  winter,  and  I  really  think 
That  I  shall  send  to  him  for  all  her  clothes. 

MR.   JACQUEMINOT. 

Your  daughter,  Mrs.  Souvenir,  would  captivate 

In  any  dress.     Her  laughing,  liquid  eyes 

Will  shatter  hearts  like  reeds.     I  hear  your  son 

Is  so  attractive;  only  watch  him  now, 

With  what  a  finished  air  of  well-bred  ease 

He  ?s  fanning  Lulu  Bonselline.    O,  charming,  charming  1 

MRS.  TIGERLILY  (to  MRS.  BONSELLINE,  seated  on  the  other  side 

of  the  room). 

Tell  me,  my  dear,  who  made  that  lovely  tulle 
Of  Lulu's  ?     It  must  surely  be  Pingard's. 


1 8  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on- Wheels. 

MRS.    BONSELLINE. 

No,  it  was  made  by  Felix,  and  it  fits 
Extremely  well,  and  yet  upon  the  whole 
I  think  that  Froment  gives  more  satisfaction, 
He  trims  so  sweetly.     It  is  such  a  comfort 
To  get  one's  things  in  Paris ;  such  a  contrast 
In  prices  to  the  wretches  on  this  side, 
Although  I  must  confess  that  Santin  made 
A  bonnet  for  my  Lulu,  that  compares 
With  Virot's  very  well. 

MRS.    TIGERLILY. 

My  Georgiana 

Finds  Parcher  pretty  good.     O  dear,  O  dear  ! 
I  said  it  would  be  so  !     Look  how  her  skirt 
Is  hanging !     Tell  me,  dear,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

Makes  frantic  signs  to  her  daughter,  who  finally  approaches  on  the 
arm  ^CARNATION.  MRS.  T.  whispers  to  her,  and  she  goes  off  to 
the  dressing-room,  while  CARNATION  waits  for  her  at  the  door. 

CHORUS  OF  CHAPERONS  (mothers). 
Don't  you  believe  that  it 's  pretty  near  supper-time  ? 
We  are  beginning  to  get  up  an  appetite, 
Silently  sitting  in  slumberous  solitude. 
Look  how  that  volatile  little  Miss  Bonselline  's 
Torn  all  to  tatters  her  train  irreproachable, 
Dancing  that  horrible,  barbarous  redowa. 
Watch  that  unfortunate  youngest  Miss  Daffodil 
Try  to  keep  time  with  the  elegant  Souvenir ! 
O,  what  a  bungle  and  mess  she  has  made  of  it ! 


The  Chaperons.  19 

CARNATION  brings  some  salad  and  champagne  to  MRS.  TIGERLILY 
and  MRS.  BONSELLINE.  SOUVENIR  comss  up  in  a  very  magnificent 
manner  after  they  are  helped,  and  asks  if  he  can  get  them  any 
thing. 

MRS.  TIGERLILY. 

O,  thank  you,  no,  we  have  got  all  we  want : 
Your  party  is  a  wonderful  success. 

SOUVENIR  bows  his  thanks,  waves  his  opera  hat  superbly,  and  ^ 

away. 

He  certainly  has  most  delightful  manners. 

That  young  Carnation  is  a  real  good  boy, 

But  rather  gauche,  you  know.     O,  there  's  my  Georgy 

Talking  to  Hurly  Crocus  !     Don't  they  make 

A  charming  couple  ? 

MRS.    BONSELLINE. 

Very  much  so,  dear. 

But,  O,  do  tell  me  who  is  that  strange  man 
That 's  talking  now  to  Peepy  Jacqueminot  ? 

MRS.   TIGERLILY. 

Why,  he  's  a  titled  Englishman,  named  Nightshade, 
Spending  a  fortnight  with  young  Scarlet  Runner. 
Lord  Deadly  Nightshade  's  what  I  think  they  call  him. 
They  say  he  's  awful  rich  and  full  of  talent. 

MRS.    BONSELLINE. 

How  nice  !  now  really,  you  don't  tell  me  so  ? 
Why,  just  look  there,  he  's  being  introduced 
To  Lulu,  —  O,  I  hope  she  '11  have  the  sense 
To  ask  him  to  our  party.  Is  it  not 


20  The  Little  Tin  Gods-on-  Wheels. 

A  most  distinguished  name,  —  Lord  Deadly  Nightshade  ? 
It 's  dangerous  to  have  a  handsome  daughter. 

MRS.    TIGERLILY. 

I  feel  with  you,  my  dear,  I  Ve  just  found  out 

That  Georgy  is  a  beauty.     Only  think, 

Cecilia  Mignonette  told  Martha  Cowslip 

That  Mr.  Jacqueminot  told  her  that  Georgy 

Had  finer  eyes  than  any  girl  in  Boston. 

He  is  a  first-rate  judge,  and  lots  of  others 

Have  told  me  the  same  thing.     I  Ve  always  thought 

Her  quite  nice-looking,  but,  dear,  nothing  further. 

I  see  a  mother's  judgment  can't  be  trusted. 

You  ought  to  see  her  in  her  new  spring  kilt, 

Cut  very  short ;  she  really  does  look  sweetly. 

MRS.    SOUVENIR    (to  MR.    JACQUEMINOT). 

Just  do  look  now  at  Georgy  Tigerlily 
Sitting  alone,  —  she  's  never  taken  out. 
One  would  suppose  her  mother  would  get  tired 
Of  seeing  her  neglected.     But  she  goes 
Night  after  night,  and  says  that  she  enjoys  it. 
Poor  child  !  it  is  not  her  fault  that  she  's  plain. 

MR.    JACQUEMINOT. 

She  has  not  certainly  a  ray  of  beauty, 
No  style,  and  Peepy  says  no  conversation. 

MRS.    SOUVENIR. 

O,  what  a  contrast  she  is  to  your  Peepy ! 

MR.    JACQUEMINOT  whispers  something  in  reply  that  is  inaudible. 
MRS.  SOUVENIR  looks  immensely  flattered. 


The  Chaperons.  21 

CHORUS  OF  CHAPERONS  {fathers). 
Look  here  now,  we  are  decidedly  sick  of  this  ; 
It 's  the  last  time  that  we  mean  to  put  up  with  it, 
Sitting  up  this  way  till  two  in  the  morning ! 
One  must  be  made  like  the  Archangel  Gabriel, 
Blessed  with  Job's  patience,  and  more  than  humanity 
Not  to  get  mad  at  this  wildly  preposterous, 
Perfectly  scandalous  state  of  society. 

When  we  were  young  would  our  parents  have  winked  at  it  ? 
Not  they,  the  sturdy  and  strait-laced  old  Puritans  1 
We  will  not  either,  and  this  is  the  last  of  it,  — 
This  is  the  last  of  it,  you  bet  your  hat  on  it ! 

CHORUS  OF  CHAPERONS  (mothers). 
Come,  dears,  it's  time  to  be  putting  an  end  to  it, 
We  are  all  getting  as  sleepy  as  pussy-cats. 
Lulu  must  be  up  all  fresh  for  her  practising 
Early  to-morrow,  and  Peepy  has  harmony. 
O,  it  is  hard  on  us  pitiful  chaperons, 
Sitting  alone  in  our  slumberous  solitude. 
O,  we  are  somnolent !     Where  are  the  carriages  ? 
Wrap  yourselves  well,  dears,  the  night  is  a  chilly  one. 
Once  we  were  charming  and  lovely  young  damosels. 
Once  we  were  raving  and  tearing  and  beautiful. 

The  party  breaks  up.  Miss  TIGERLILY  and  Miss  BONSELLINE 
shake  and -wake  their  respective  mothers.  MR.  JACQUEMINOT,  in  a 
jaded  manner,  sees  MRS.  SOUVENIR  to  tlie  dressing-room  door.  The 
ushers  rush  after  hacks.  The  curtain  descends  while  the  choruses  art 
still  singing. 


OXYGEN  I 

A    MT.    DESERT    PASTORAL. 


OXYGEN ! 

A  MT.  DESERT  PASTORAL. 

A  trifle  offered  by  Lampy  without  comment,  as  an  example  of  the  effect 
that  a  bracing  atmosphere  can  produce  tipon  conservative  natures. 

DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

Miss  ALICE  BUNTING,  of  Philadelphia,  cetatis  21  yrs.  6  mos. 
MR.  ARTHUR  FLANNELSHIRT,  A.  B.,  LL.  B.,  of  Boston,  atatis  26 yrs. 
3  mos. 

SCENE  I.  —  Mt.  Desert.     Corridor  of  Rodick  House. 
Hour,  10.30  -P.  M. 

Enter  Miss  BUNTING  and  MR.  FLANNELSHIRT  arm  in  arm.  Her 
dress  is  a  bhie  and  white  boating-suit,  cut  short.  A  hat  with  a  huge 
brim  and  draped  with  a  large  red  handkerchief  is  perched  on  the  back 
of  her  head.  He  is  attired  in  a  gray  shirt  of  flannel,  a  pair  of  patched 
pantaloons,  a  skullcap,  and  canvas  shoes.  He  is  smoking  a  pipe.  She 
pauses  at  room  twenty,  and  taking  a  key  from  her  pocket  gives  it  to 
him.  He  unlocks  the  door.  She  goes  in  and  returns  with  a  small 
pitcher. 

ALICE. 

AND  now,  good  night.     But  ere  you  go,  do  get  me, 
As  usual,  some  hot  water  from  the  kitchen. 

ARTHUR. 

Give  me  the  jug,  and  in  half  a  jiffy 
I  will  be  back.     (Runs  down  the  corridor) 


26  Oxygen. 

ALICE  (shrieking  after  him). 
Be  sure  that  it  is  boiling ! 

She  goes  into  her  room  and  shuts  the  door.  Interval  of  five  minutes. 
Re-enter  ARTHUR,  with  the  pitcher  of  hot  water  and  a  plate  of  hard 
crackers.  He  knocks,  and  she  puts  her  head  out. 

ALICE. 

What  made  you  take  so  long  ?     But  O,  how  lovely, 
To  bring  me  some  hard  crackers  too  !     Just  toss  me 
One  from  the  plate  and  see  if  I  can  catch  it. 

He  does  so,  and  she,  emerging  from  the  room,  tries  to  catch  it  in  her 
mouth.  The  cracker  falls  on  the  ground.  They  both  stoop  to  pick  up 
the  pieces,  and  bump  their  heads. 

ALICE. 

You  horrid  thing !     You  stupid,  awkward  creature  1 
She  play  fully  flings  the  bits  of  cracker  at  him. 

ARTHUR. 

Come  now,  it 's  much  too  early  to  retire. 

Let 's  go  and  eat  our  crackers  on  the  staircase  ; 

It  would  be  sort  of  weird.     Say,  don't  you  think  so  ? 

ALICE. 

Why,  yes.     I  think  it  would  be  quite  romantic  ! 
You  really  can't  imagine  what  a  comfort 
It  is  to  have  no  matron  to  annoy  one, 
To  dog  one's  steps  and  harp  on  what  is  proper  I 
A  girl  that 's  civilized  don't  need  a  matron. 


A  Mt.  Desert  Pastoral  27 

Thank  Heaven,  father  let  me  come  without  one. 

He  kicked  at  first,  but  by  judicious  treatment 

I  brought  him  round.     I  'in  ready  now,  if  you  are. 

They  proceed  to  the  staircase  and  sit  down  on  the  top  stat'r,  •with  the 
-water-pitcher  between  them. 

ALICE  (munching  crackers). 

O,  ain't  this  jolly,  it  is  so  informal ! 
Why,  only  think,  we  two  set  out  together 
At  nine  this  morning  to  explore  and  ramble. 
We  've  spent  the  day  together  on  the  mountain, 
And  never  parted  once.     The  heat  of  noontide 
Found  us  companions  still,  and  evening's  shadow 
Saw  you  and  me  without  a  person  near  us. 
Where  else,  but  here,  could  we  do  this  without 
Exciting  comment  ? 

ARTHUR. 

Nowhere,  sad  to  mention. 
In  Boston,  where  I  live,  if  I  should  happen 
To  walk  twice  with  some  fascinating  creature 
I  should  dead  certain  be  reported  smitten, 
Engaged,  and  when  that  turned  out  false,  rejected. 
But  here,  to  pass  the  day  with  whom  you  want  to,  — 
Pass  two  days,  three  days,  four  days,  even  five  days, 
In  the  society  of  girls  one  fancies, 
Is  not  regarded  as  the  least  peculiar. 
What  do  you  say,  now,  to  a  row  by  moonlight  ? 


28  Oxygen. 

ALICE. 

The  very  thing !     O,  what  a  boon  is  freedom  ! 

They  rise  from  the  stairs.  She  goes  to  her  room  and  gets  a  sliawl,  which 
he  tenderly  puts  over  her  shoulders.  Arm  in  arm  they  go  down, 
leaving  the  pitcher  in  the  middle  of  the  staircase. 


SCENE  II. — Bar  Harbor.     Mt.  Desert. 

A  row-boat  is  floating  on  the  tranquil  water.  A  nearly  full  moon  is 
high  in  the  heavens.  She  is  stretched  out  in  the  stern.  He  slowly 
paddles  with  the  oars.  Several  other  boats  can  be  seen  in  the  distance, 
but  not  near  enough  to  distinguish  the  parties. 

ALICE. 

This  is  a  first-rate  place  to  get  acquainted ; 
Day  before  yesterday  I  'd  never  seen  you, 
And  now  I  feel  as  if  I  'd  known  you  ages. 

ARTHUR. 

In  my  prim  city,  I  might  live  next  door  to 
A  girl  for  ten  years,  and  not  know  her  nearly 
As  well  as  I  know  you.     This  comes  of  freedom  ! 
Look  at  those  boats  on  this  side  and  on  that  side, 
Each  freighted  with  two  other  kindred  spirits, 
More  intimate,  perhaps,  than  even  we  are. 
They  probably  have  rambled  weeks  together, 
And  rowed  upon  the  water  every  evening. 
This  beats  the  New  Republic  all  to  hollow; 
Paul  and  Virginia  were  nothing  to  it. 


A  Mt.  Desert  Pastoral.  29 

ALICE. 

If  I  were  at  Nahant,  Cohasset,  Newport, 

Or  any  other  of  those  horrid  places, 

I  should  be  forced  in  cold  blood  to  abandon 

This  blessed  moon,  and  go  to  bed  when  pa  did. 

But,  fortunately,  Mrs.  Easy-Going, 

Who  promised  pa  to  keep  an  eye  upon  me, 

Don't  care  a  button  what  I  do,  provided 

I  do  not  interfere  with  her  Amelia, 

Who  spends  her  time  with  little  Peter  Minestock. 

I  hope  she  '11  get  him,  but  I  pity  Peter ! 

By  "way  of  variety,  she  gives  him  a  playful  spatter  with  the  oar.  He 
laughs,  and  spatters  her  back.  He  proposes  to  anchor,  and  she  ac 
quiesces.  She  stretches  herself  out  in  the  stern,  he  in  the  bow,  with  a 
pipe. 

ALICE. 

Now,  ain't  this  lovely,  to  be  so  devoted  ! 
It 's  twenty  times  as  good  as  an  engagement, 
Because  we  know  that,  if  we  ever  happen 
To  weary  of  each  other,  we  have  only 
To  part,  and  cotton  to  another  person,  — 
You  to  some  girl,  and  I  to  some  new  fellow. 

ARTHUR. 
I  could  spend  years  with  you  and  never  weary ! 

ALICE. 

Don't  be  too  sure.     You  're  merely  a  spring  chicken. 
And  I  have  practised  at  this  thing  four  summers. 


30  Oxygen. 

You  will  get  sick  of  me  before  a  fortnight 
Is  ended. 

ARTHUR.      , 

Never,  O,  believe  me,  never  j 
I  ne'er  have  seen  a  girl  that  I  admired, 
Adored,  respected,  loved,  and  venerated 
So  much  as  I  do  you. 

ALICE. 

What  perfect  nonsense  ! 

What  would  your  ma  say?     O,  young  man,  be  careful; 
All  Philadelphians  are  not  like  me,  sir  ! 
Nine  out  of  ten  would  snap  you  up  directly 
For  words  like  those,  and  marry  you  before  you 
Could  count  Jack  Robinson  ! 

ARTHUR. 

O  lovely  being ! 

I  'm  thine  forever,  if  you  only  say  so. 
For  all  I  care,  my  ma  may  go  to  glory. 

ALICE. 

How  sweet  to  be  thus  loved  !     No  more  at  present, 
I  will  reflect  on  what  you  say.     It 's  time  now 
To  go  to  bed.     What  hour  says  your  repeater  ? 

ARTHUR. 

T  is  half  past  twelve. 


A  Mt.  Desert  Pastoral  31 

ALICE. 

'T  is  sad  to  part,  but  needful. 

They  slowly  get  to  rights  and  haul  up  the  anchor.     She  takes  the  oars 
and  rows  towards  the  shore;  he  puffs  his  pipe  pensively. 


SCENE  III.  —  The  Corridor  of  the  Rodick  House. 
Hour,  1.15  A.  M. 

They  re-enter  arm  in  arm.  Somebody  has  stepped  on  and  upset  the 
pitcher  during  their  absence.  After  a  few  minutes'  conversation  he 
goes  and  gets  some  more  boiling  water. 

ALICE  (going  into  her  room). 
And  now,  once  more,  good  night. 

ARTHUR. 

To-morrow  morning 
I  '11  come  at  nine. 

ALICE  (sticking  her  head  ouf). 

All  right,  I  shall  be  ready, 
And  we  will  spend  the  day  again  together, 
As  usual  to  our  mutual  satisfaction. 
We  '11  climb,  read  poetry,  drive,  row,  loaf,  and  ramble 
From  morn  to  dewy  eve,  and  I  will  teach  you 
The  latest  dodge  in  scientific  flirting ; 
Giving  you  points,  and  Heaven  knows  you  need  them  I 
You'll  be  an  adept  by  this  time  next  summer, 
If  you  don't  let  such  stuff  as  that  you  uttered 
To  night  destroy  the  fruits  of  my  good  teaching. 


32  Oxygen. 

But  when,  in  future  days,  you  are  distinguished 

For  being  able  with  your  little,  finger 

To  set  the  heart  of  any  girl  a  beating, 

And  not  to  care  a  rush,  say  that  I  taught  you. 

Say,  "  Alice  Bunting,  a  sweet  Philadelphian, 

A  maiden  unaffected  and  spontaneous, 

Who  always  did  exactly  what  she  wanted, 

And  went  from  principle  without  a  matron, 

Found  me  a  callow  youth,  a  perfect  chicken, 

And  made  me  what  I  am.  —  Be  hers  the  glory." 

Good  night,  good  night !     Remember,  nine  to-morrow. 

Kisses  her  hand  to  him,  and  closes  the  door. 
ARTHUR. 

Good  night,  good  night!    O,  why  ain't  more  girls  like  herl 
Walks  slowly  and  pensively  down  the  corridor. 


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Law  Books  used  as  Text-books  in  Harvard  Law  School,  and  for  sale  at  the  University 

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LANGDELL'S    CONTRACTS #10.00 

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Charles  W.   Sever  s  List  of  Books. 


KEITH'S    PHYSICS. 

QUESTIONS  AND  NOTES  IN  PHYSICS,  covering  Parts  I.  and  II.  of  Arnott's  Elements. 
Adapted  for  Recitation  in  Course  and  for  Examination,  and  intended  as  an  aid  in  preparing  for 
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Paper.  50  cents. 

TUFTS'S    GEOGRAPHY. 

QUESTIONS  ON   MODERN  AND   PHYSICAL  GEOGRAPHY. 

TUFTS'S    GREECE. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE   HISTORY  AND   GEOGRAPHY  OF   GREECE. 

TUFTS'S    ROME. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  HISTORY  AND  GEOGRAPHY  OF  ROME.  Especially  suited 
for  Schools  and  Academies,  and  Students  preparing  for  Harvard  College.  By  J.  F.  TUFTS,  A.B. 
Paper.  25  cents  each. 

HEDGE'S    GERMAN    PREPOSITIONS. 

GERMAN  PREPOSITIONS.    By  FREDERIC  H.  HEDGE,  Harvard  University.    Paper.    25  cents. 

SHALER'S  QUESTION  GUIDE  TO  THE  ENVIRONS  OF  BOSTON. 

QUESTION  GUIDE  TO  THE  ENVIRONS  OF  BOSTON.  Designed  for  the  use  of  Begin 
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By  Prof.  N.  S.  SHALER,  Harvard  University.  Paper.  25  cents. 

FOURTH    ORATION    OF   ISOCRATES —  PANEGYRIC. 

THE  FOURTH  ORATION  OF  ISOCRATES,  called  the  Panegyric,  as  being  addressed  to 
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"An  Artinfic  Cent." 
KING'S   HARVARD   AND    ITS    SURROUNDINGS. 

HARVARD  AND  ITS  SURROUNDINGS.  P>y  MOSES  KING,  of  Harvard  College,  Cam 
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SIBLEY'S   HARVARD    GRADUATES. 

BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES  OF  GRADUATES  OF  THE  ACADEMIC  DEPART 
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DON  SIBLEY,  A.M.,  Librarian.  Cloth.  #5.00. 

The  object  of'the  volume  is  to  present,  with  great  minuteness  of  detail,  the  results  of  more  than  a 
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BY   THE  AUTHOR   OF   "THE  LITTLE    TIN  GOD S-ON- WHEELS.' 


THE 

CONFESSIONS  OF  A  FRIVOLOUS  GIRL, 

A  STORY  OF  FASHIONABLE  LIFE. 

BY  ROBERT  GRANT. 

WITH    VIGNETTE  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  L.   S.   IPSEN. 
i6mo.      Cloth.     Elegant.     $1.25. 


"  It  is  a  charming  little  novel."  —  Springfield  Republican. 

"  There  is  a  peculiar  witty  touch  in  the  writings  of  Mr.  Grant."  — J.  T.  Fields. 

"  Bright,  witty,  and  full  of  '  go.'  .  .  .  Mr.  Grant  is  a  shrewd  observer.  .  .  .  Cannot 
help  making  a  decided  sensation."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"In  fact,  the  American  girl  from  a  home  point  of  view,  pictured  with  the  delicacy  of 
touch,  and  tinged  with  that  peculiar  vein  of  wit  and  sentiment,  which  has  made  its  author  so 
well  known  to  select  readers."  —  Boston  Traveller. 

"  The  characters  seem  to  have  sat  for  their  photographs.  The  book  will  introduce  him 
to  every  circle  where  polite  literature  is  appreciated."  —  Boston  Post. 

"  A  remarkably  bright  and  breezy  satire,  abounding  in  clever  comment,  good-natured 
sarcasm,  and  witty  reflection."  —  Saturday  Evening  Gazclte. 

"  Wins  at  once  a  place  for  its  author  among  the  keenest  of  our  social  critics."  — J.  Boyle 
O'Reilly. 

A.  WILLIAMS   &   CO.,    PUBLISHERS,   BOSTON. 


